


sailor's delight

by deniigiq



Series: Inimitable Verse [18]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Co-workers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Matt is occasionally a good teacher and boss, Office, Sam is lactose intolerant, Secret Identity, Team as Family, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: “Come on, girl. It’s New York. Every pizza guy is a superhero,” Sam huffed. “I musta met four just taking out the trash.”“Yeah, but like, have you evermetone,” Leilani clarified, picking up a strawful of her drink.(The offices of Murdock, McDuffie & Nelson get a new employee. She makes some assertions and sends Sam scrambling to keep Blindspot under wraps.)
Relationships: Samuel Chung & Matt Murdock, Samuel Chung & his coworkers
Series: Inimitable Verse [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1117746
Comments: 33
Kudos: 556





	sailor's delight

**Author's Note:**

> I am D Y I N G for Blindspot/Sam Chung content. Dying for it. 
> 
> references to undocumented immigration below. Please do what you need to look after yourselves!

There was fresh meat in the office. The old folks were talking to her in the main room. Any time Sam poked his head in, he was chased out by stern faces and sensei threatening him with another basket of filing work.

But, if Sam was understanding all this correctly, the point of the fresh meat was to manage the baskets of filing work so that he and Leilani would not be subjected to such injury in future.

The gal’s name was Achara. She went community college. She wanted to be a lawyer one day. Or so her cover letter had claimed, anyways.

Sam was dying to meet her.

He’d been the last slab of fresh meat in the office, which meant that he was the last rung on the office ladder. That was great in that it meant that sensei was always quick to defend him, but it was shit in that it meant that whenever something went wrong, 9 out of 10 times, it was his fault.

Leilani was too competent at her job for it to be hers, after all. And the old folks cranked through cases like a well-oiled machine.

It was just Sam who was playing catch up these days.

But no!

Not any longer!

He was going to impress the fuck outta this gal. Just you wait and see.

“This is Leilani, she manages the office schedule, the reception area, and much of the paperwork. You’ll be supporting her and taking her place every other Friday. And this is—” Foggy paused with a hand outstretched in Sam’s direction.

Sam rattled.

Foggy sighed.

“This is Sam,” he said. “Our paralegal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said immediately, throwing out a hand to shake Achara’s. She took it a touch wide-eyed.

Maybe that had come on a little strong.

“Don’t mind him, he’s excited not to be the only one in the backroom anymore,” Foggy said. “Sam does a lot of the research for our cases, so if you need anything clarified, he’s your first point of contact. And he’s going to be _nice_ , isn’t he, Samuel?”

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“Of course,” Sam said. “I’m always nice. Name one moment when I haven’t been nice.”

Foggy did not.

“Sam has low vision,” he told Achara, “So he might ask you to help him read things or look at pictures—all of which will be work-relevant, won’t they be, Sam?”

Nope.

Cat memes for the next week and half.

“Of course,” Sam said. “I’m a professional, Fogs.”

Achara stared at him. She had tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes and was a little taller than Hannah.

She looked around Hannah’s age, too. Maybe twenty? Twenty-one?

Sam hoped she was twenty-one.

“Nice to meet you,” she told him.

Leilani and Sam had a working relationship, by which he meant that they cuddled together when clients and lawyers weren’t looking and had a giggle over all kinds of ridiculous shit. They went out after work and did weekend trips and sometimes ran off to her place to just hang out.

Leilani had introduced Sam to a lot of his new friends in SF. She’d noticed that he wasn’t so great at making them on his own.

Sam would kill for Leilani.

Sensei would too, but Leilani didn’t really need to know all the ins and outs of that.

Achara, Sam hoped, would join their little group. Leilani told him after the first week, though, that she didn’t know about that.

“She’s fine,” she said. “But you know. Weird. Really weird. She’s always reading through twitter on her breaks and watching Youtube and stuff—and that’s fine. Obviously we all do that, but like, she doesn’t talk to me. Or you. Or anyone. And she always goes to a lawyer when she has a question.”

“Maybe she’s a government spy,” Sam tried.

Leilani considered this.

“If she’s a spy, she’s not a good one,” she said. “She can’t file for shit.”

“Maybe spies unlearn the alphabet,” Sam said.

Sam watched her try to straight-man her way through that.

“I dunno, man,” she said. “I don’t think she’d vibe with us.”

No?

Too bad.

Sam decided that he’d give the new gal a chance. Sure, Leilani’s judge of character was pretty much on point every time, but still, everything had a probability of not turning out the way you expected. And besides, it was nice not being at the bottom of the ladder anymore.

Matt’s hushed swearing seemed slightly less directed at him and Foggy and Kirsten’s rattling frustrations seemed a little more distant, too.

Mostly the problem was exactly was Leilani said it was.

The new secretary assistant was shit at filing stuff.

“It’s really, _really_ important that everything goes exactly where it needs to be,” Sam heard Leilani emphasizing from his cozy corner of books in the backroom. “Because Mr. Murdock is blind and Sam has low-vision, it is super important that we keep everything exactly in place, otherwise they won’t be able to work as well and client’s materials might get lost.”

Achara said she got it. Sam thought that she sounded kind of put out.

Well, _someone_ hadn’t worked six thousand menial jobs in customer service before, now had they?

He realized halfway through the second week that Achara hadn’t asked him a single question. Not a single one.

He sat up abruptly in his bird’s nest in the back in alarm.

How had she not asked him any questions? He was the firm’s paralegal. Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten were too busy rushing all over hell and gone, researching cases, sprinting to court, and trying to keep people from arguing and crying in their offices—they didn’t have time to be answering assistant secretary questions. Hell, _Sam_ barely had time between the note-taking, transcript compiling, and information requesting to be answering assistant secretary questions.

Weird.

He moved his collection of books and paper off his lap and onto his desk to go stick his head out and check on the front desk.

Achara was there, inputting data into excel sheets while Leilani answered the phone.

Hm.

Sam meandered over to Achara.

“Hey,” he said.

She leapt in her seat and clutched at her chest in horror when she saw that it was just him.

“Oh my god, don’t do that,” she said.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asked.

“Sneak up on me like that—how long have you been standing there?”

Sneak? Sam hadn’t snuck up on anyone. He’d walked over.

Hannah told him all the time that he had an eerily quiet step, but Leilani was never surprised to see him standing at her side.

Maybe Leilani had superhearing.

He stared at the side of her face in shock.

“Um? Mr…uh? Did you need something?” Achara asked.

Hm? Mr.?

“I’m Sam, just call me ‘Sam,’” Sam said, returning to Achara.

Achara’s lip threatened to curl.

“Mr. Sam,” she said.

Woah.

No, no.

Just Sam.

“I’m not comfortable with that,” Achara said.

Um?

That was? New?

“Well, I’m uncomfortable with ‘Mr. Chung,’ so you can call me Sam,” he said brightly. “I was just wondering if you’re settling in okay. If you ever have any questions, I’m literally just right behind you guys in the backroom, so you’re welcome to stop by and ask.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks,” Achara said.

She glanced between him and the computer screen in front of her. Sam tried to resist the urge to recoil at the awkwardness.

“Cool,” he said. “I’ll just be, uh. I’ll just be back there.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the wall that separated them from his desk.

“Yeah. Cool. Thanks,” Achara said.

He retreated. He closed the door and deflated with his back pressed up against it.

What the fuck?

No, seriously, what the fuck?

He’d worked in the service and hospitality industries since he was fourteen and that shit? He’d _never_ gotten that kind of reaction. Sure, sometimes he didn’t click with people and sure, sometimes folks were too jaded to give a shit about their coworkers, but the name thing? That was bizarre. If someone told you to call them by their preferred name, then you called them by their preferred name, no questions asked; it didn’t matter how awkward it was. People had reasons for that kind of shit.

Yikes, yikes, yikes.

Nope.

Not his problem.

He went and buried himself in paperwork to soothe the dull burn. Kirsten came in a little later for the Remton file and asked him if he was cold.

Leilani said over an orange and pink drink later that night that she’d gotten the same treatment.

“I mean, I’ve been doing this a minute,” she said, frowning at her striped paper straw and removing it so that it stopped fucking up the atmosphere of her Instagram pic. “And you know, people in offices can be weird about titles, but she literally calls me ‘Ms. Leilani,’ like, hon, no. Take a hint. You’re making things hella awkward.”

No, seriously.

“Maybe she just doesn’t like us,” Sam relented. “Maybe we’re too old and not cool enough for the kids anymore. It’s ‘cause we went pillow shopping, isn’t it?”

“Spinal support is _cool_ , Sam,” Leilani snapped. “I haven’t slept better in years.”

“Same,” Sam said. “But my little sis can be like this sometimes. She turns it on for work, obviously, but she told me before that earnestness isn’t cool anymore.”

“Earnestness?” Leilani said. “She actually said that?”

Well, no. But that was the closest English word Sam could think of for it. And anyways, this wasn’t about translations. This was about de-awkward-izing the workplace.

“Is she at least good at the job?” Sam asked.

“Better,” Leilani said. “Although we did have to have a serious conversation about accessibility. She kept trying to change our color code and said that we could just re-explain it to Mr. Nelson and Ms. McDuffie.”

Um?

And what was Sam here? Chopped liver?

“Yeah, pretty much,” Leilani said. “I think she was thinking more about aesthetic. She’s super into neutral tones.”

Ah.

“So my friend in New York has these neon yellow sneakers,” Sam said. “He works in a lab and wears ‘em as a warning to his staff that Caution has arrived. Maybe I should ask him to send me a pair to shake ‘er up.”

Leilani sat up straight, considering this.

“We should get matching sneakers,” she said. “I want Air Jordans.”

“Neither of us can afford Jordans,” Sam pointed out.

“Not with that attitude,” Leilani said.

Spidey screamed when Sam sent him a pic of his and Leilani’s new green and pink shoes.

He laughed and showed her the text.

Spidey sent a picture of him and all his lab manager coworkers with everyone with a shoe slapped down on a nasty old wood table in a dive bar somewhere. They had the whole post-it-note rainbow going on.

“WE ARE SKITTLES,” Spidey texted.

“Ooooh. Which one is your friend?” Leilani asked, zooming in on the picture.

“The scruffy white guy,” Sam said.

“Oooooooh. He’s cute.”

“He’s taken.”

“You don’t know my life.”

Psh.

“Wow, Sam. Wait, isn’t that Stark Industries?”

Oh. Yeah, it was. Look at all these assholes wearing their labcoats in a bar. Fuckin’ nerds.

“Damn, man. You know real people back in New York, don’t you?” Leilani said, handing him his phone back.

“I know some folks,” Sam said.

“You know any superheroes? I hear they’re a dime a dozen out that way,” Leilani said.

Awkward awkward awkward.

“Come on, girl. It’s New York. Every pizza guy is a superhero,” Sam huffed. “I musta met four just taking out the trash.”

“Yeah, but like, have you ever _met_ one,” Leilani clarified, picking up a strawful of her drink.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Sam said. “I met Daredevil once.”

Leilani slammed down the straw.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “He’s so hot, I could die.”

Awkward awkward AWKWARD

“He’s grumpy,” Sam said. “Told me to get scarce. That was it, that’s kind of his whole deal.”

“Sam, you insulted Daredevil. You ruined my chances, how could you?” Leilani groaned. “Find me another pretty, superpowered white boy please. Find me Captain America. Just go home and grab him and bring him to my apartment, okay? I’ll pay you in Hot Cheetos.”

Well.

Sam _did_ like Hot Cheetos.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

Matt burst out of his office on Friday and announced that he would suffocate if he had to stay in there for a second longer. He told Sam and Leilani to get up, he was taking them out for lunch.

He asked where Achara was.

She was filing.

She declined to join them. Sam and Leilani bared teeth at each other, just about in pain.

Matt was undaunted. He was in office-family mode. He insisted. He told Achara that it was important for their office culture that she participate.

“Anyways, I have no children of my own. I must spoil someone,” he said, grabbing Sam’s shoulders and squeezing them. “This one doesn’t appreciate my spoiling.”

No, because Matt’s idea of spoiling was heaping on the quality time, which, for Sam, looked like double training sessions and Sam getting the shit kicked out of him for three hours straight. Matt genuinely loved to train Sam, which was endearing and probably heart-warming from a distance, but they had very, _very_ different love languages as far as Sam was concerned.

He would rather a hug in there every so often. Or you know, any non-violent touch at all?

Achara relented.

Matt let Leilani pick a lunch destination since Sam had gotten to pick last time. They ended up at a Filipino food joint a bus-ride away from the office. This suited Matt just fine. He had had enough with the office for the day, so it seemed.

Matt explained his agitation with a client to the office juniors over lumpia and sticky-sweet pork with rice. Apparently this guy just kept calling him, day after day, even though every day he said that it would take at least a week for the man’s paperwork to go through. He’d tried to be nice about it, but this guy started unloading onto him each and every call, rehashing the same story again and again, and like, yeah. Matt got it. No, for real, he got it. That was why he’d taken the case, but he couldn’t work on the case if he was being preoccupied with being this dude’s counselor.

Achara said that he sounded like this client needed therapy.

“Definitely,” Matt said, “But he won’t be able to afford it until the case is over, so that’s not his fault.”

Achara maintained that he needed therapy and should go to a community center.

Sam decided to take a bite of lumpia to keep himself from saying, ‘Hey. Did you not just hear this guy? The man can’t afford it right now, community center or no community center.”

Leilani decided to steal Sam’s coke in that moment to take a long drink of it. Matt had much more patience.

“Community centers with sliding scale therapy are important,” he told Achara, “But many of them require an initial payment for the first session and while that might not seem like a whole lot in the bigger picture, when you’re working a nine to five and have childcare to sort out, it can be really hard to find time and money to spend on yourself. On the other hand, I have already said I’d help and I can be reached fairly quickly on break times. He’s not trying to be rude, he’s just got a lot of understandable anxiety and no one else that he feels comfortable expressing that to.”

Achara accepted this explanation with an ‘I guess that makes sense’ before going back to checking her phone.

Sam felt his jaw clench.

Rude.

 _Rude_.

Sensei was sitting right there, buying lunch and being patient. Even though he didn’t seem to mind this treatment, it was just like, come on, girl. That’s your boss. And he’s a fairly decent one in the grand scheme of things. At least pretend to be grateful.

Matt didn’t acknowledge anything out of the ordinary. He changed the subject and asked Leilani very seriously her opinion on birds.

Their next-door neighbor had acquired a cage full of parakeets which had since literally flown the coop and taken up residence in the tree next to the fence that bordered the two houses. The same tree that was right outside Matt and Foggy’s bedroom window.

Matt was thinking about finding one of the three tubby neighborhood cats and luring it over to the tree to address the infestation problem living in it.

Leilani told him that he could borrow her mom’s hateful brown furball.

Sam crammed another piece of lumpia into his mouth to get rid of the bitter taste that had started souring the sides of his tongue.

They got back to the office and found Foggy and Kirsten having deep thoughts over potato salad and hot dogs. Deep, deep thoughts.

They demanded everyone’s feelings on ketchup on hot dogs as soon as they crossed the threshold.

Matt said that ketchup had no place on anything but mac and cheese. Sam thought that ketchup was fine on many things, but just not on hot dogs. Ketchup was for the fries that went with hotdogs. Leilani called them hotdog purists and said that ketchup went on everything, including mystery meat— _especially_ mystery meat.

Achara said that she liked both ketchup and mustard on her hotdogs.

“She’s a robot,” Sam hissed to Leilani in the backroom. “An AI. She can’t be human. No human could say such a thing.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Leilani said, trying and failing to steal one of his accordions of post-it notes. “She’s not a robot for the hotdog thing, she’s obviously a robot for the therapy thing—like, girl. This is what we do. These are the people who we work with. Have you not caught onto that yet?”

Fair.

Although Sam would retain his opinions on the hotdog thing.

“We need to crack this,” Sam said. “The old folks aren’t going to fire her, so we need to figure out what the fuck her deal is so we can work with her.”

“Agreed,” Leilani said. “Drinks.”

Drinks.

Achara said that she didn’t drink and she didn’t like bars.

Sam almost went crashing into Kirsten’s office to ask her for a new baby sister. This one was too weird.

But he did not.

That hadn’t worked on Mom and people were totally allowed not to drink or like bars. Sam didn’t know Achara’s life; maybe she’d had alcoholic parents or bad experiences with it, or maybe she was just super introverted and not about that shouting-across-tables life.

And anyways, Sam was from New York. The drinking culture there was a little different. West coast people seemed a little less heavy on the alcohol when they could help it.

“Ice cream then?” he tried. “Or waffles? There’s a new waffle and bubble tea place that’s opened in the Richmond.”

Leilani knew exactly which one he was talking about. She’d tried it with her friend Jia the other day and no, it was shit. They weren’t going there. If they were doing waffles, she had a much better place.

Sam knew this place. He appreciated their dedication to everything being pink or purple and all the fake crystals hanging from the ceiling.

Hannah would never have come here with him. She’d have said that it was too clean and smelled like bubble-gum. Their favorite waffle joint back home was barely a restaurant.

He got a taro tea and Leilani got a pandan-flavored waffle heaped with whipped cream. Achara got a plain waffle with strawberries.

Thus equipped, Leilani gave Sam a look that signaled that it was go-time.

“So how do you like work?” she asked Achara sweetly.

“It’s fine,” Achara said. “Kind of boring, honestly. I thought it would be busier.”

Sam blinked.

“It’s not busy to you?” he asked.

His desk said otherwise. Kirsten’s desk said otherwise.

“No, it is,” Achara sighed. “Just—I dunno. I kinda liked my old job better. People were more cheerful, I think.”

“Yeah, folks tend to come to us when they’re in a bad place,” Leilani said. “We see the worst of them in some ways.”

“You want to be a lawyer, right?” Sam asked. “It’s probably good practice to see ‘em like this.”

Achara locked eyes onto him.

“Why do you talk like that?” she asked him out of nowhere.

Sam found himself taken off guard.

“Talk like what?” he asked.

“I dunno, like that. You’ve got a weird accent,” she said.

Um.

Sorry. Was she—was she seriously saying that? She was half-Thai. Did no one in her family have an accent?

“I’m—uh. I came here when I was around five?” he stuttered. “My, uh--my mom has—had—a pretty strong accent?”

Leilani balled a fist against her lips and held it there hard with wide eyes.

“What? No, not that,” Achara said. “Not that one. Sorry, no. I meant the other one.”

WHAT OTHER ONE?

No. Breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. You don’t even know this girl. She’s probably not trying to be insulting.

“You talk like, I dunno. Kind of drawl-y,” Achara said.

What?

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Oh, my bad, sorry, I’m from New York,” Sam said.

Achara frowned.

“New York?” she said. “Is everyone in the office from New York?”

“I’m not,” Leilani said.

“Did you come with the other people from New York?” Achara asked Sam.

“Uh, no?” Sam said. “Just happened to connect with them out here is all. Why?”

Achara pulled back a little irritated like he was somehow answering these questions wrong.

“Mr. Murdock talks like a cartoon,” she said. “Mr. Nelson’s almost as bad, but Ms. McDuffie’s super normal. I don’t get it. Why’s everyone from New York?”

“Because people are born in New York?” Sam tried. “I dunno, Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson come from a really specific part of the city. They’ve got a regional accent that you don’t hear so much around anymore even there, honestly. Ms. McDuffie’s accent is more of the norm these days.”

“Ms. McDuffie goes off when she’s mad, though,” Leilani added smugly. “She starts sounding more like you, Sam. I heard her lay into a guy the other day like someone from TV.”

Heh. Yeah. Very funny. Let’s drop this subject now, please?

“Where are you from, Achara?” he asked. “You don’t sound like Leilani.”

“San Diego,” Achara said. “My family’s still down there. I’m just here for school.”

“Oh, cool. I’ve never been,” Sam said. “What’s it like? I know some people who live in LA.”

Achara was a direct, abrupt person, Sam decided. Her problem was that she simply hadn’t worked all that much before. She was twenty. Had only had one job before this one.

She didn’t really know about the whole work-culture thing yet.

He and Leilani tried to tell her as nicely as possible that she needed to soften up a bit for the clients and the lawyers as a show of respect. She didn’t have to actually feel anything for them, but in terms of playing the game and keeping herself out of trouble, tone was important.

She said she got that. She thanked them for telling her.

She seemed to open up a bit more after that.

She was super—and Sam meant _super_ into the New York hero scene. Her lockscreen was a candid picture of Bucky Barnes getting coffee and looking pissed about it.

“I’m gonna meet one of them,” she told Sam. “I’m saving up to go to New York and I’m gonna live there for six months and meet one of them and get married and live the rest of my days as a trophy wife. That is the goal here.”

“I thought you wanted to be a lawyer,” Leilani pointed out.

“Well, yeah. Obviously that’s the first goal,” Achara said. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’ve got trophy wife back up plans.”

That was fair.

“Everyone’s into superheroes out here, huh?” Sam said with a slightly pained smile. “It’s funny, ‘cause they get basically no respect back home. There are whole newspapers which have made it their life’s mission to take the piss out of ‘em. Like _The Bugle_ is in an honest-to-god feud with Spiderman and people actually take their side a lot.”

“Spiderman’s my first choice,” Achara said stiffly and offended.

Good luck, honey, Sam wanted to say, he’s a fuckin’ mess. The nicest, most well-meaning mess Sam had ever met, but 100% a walking human disaster waiting to trip on a curb at all times. Matt told Sam he was allowed to be friends with Spidey, but for his own sake, Matt didn’t want him spending too much time with him. He loved the kid, don’t get him wrong, but lord help him, Spidey’s bad luck _loved_ to latch onto the people around him.

Sam had thought at first that Matt had been just being an overprotective asshole about that, but he’d learned.

Boy, had he learned.

That gunshot wound ached in when the rain came sometimes.

“There’s another guy who’s pretty hot,” Achara said. “I follow him on twitter, too.”

Leilani huffed a little laugh and leaned onto the table to play along.

“Captain America?” she asked. “You tryin’ to steal my man, Achara?”

“No. It’s a Chinese guy,” Achara said. “He’s not so well-known. He’s called Blindspot.”

OH, FUCK.

SAM HAD TO GO.

“A Chinese guy?” Leilani repeated. “How do you know? Don’t they all wear masks?”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sam was too low on the totem pole for this to happen. He wasn’t even known to most of the people in New York.

“He tweets in Mandarin sometimes,” Achara said. “He’s been seen in this city recently.”

FUCK.

“No shit?” Leilani asked, sitting up. “Where?”

“Around the Tenderloin. Sometimes in Chinatown,” Achara said. “Chinatowns are kind of his thing. He started up in New York City’s Chinatown.”

Baby girl, shut UP.

“Hey,” Leilani said. “Isn’t that where you’re from, Sam?”

No, he was from ‘sensei is going to kill me when he finds out’ land.

“Uh. Yeah, actually,” he said going for light and slamming into nervous.

“You ever heard of this guy?” Leilani asked.

“Uh. Not by that name,” Sam said. “We call him something else.”

Yeah, ‘God help me.’ That’s what they called him now. And by ‘they’ Sam meant himself. He felt sick.

“’Ghost Brother,’ right?” Achara asked. “A friend of mine told me.”

“Wait, did you move up here to meet him?” Leilani asked.

“No,” Achara said. “I moved up here to meet Daredevil.”

SAM. HAD. TO. GO.

“People say that Blindspot’s his apprentice now. They’re together a lot here and Blindspot calls Daredevil the Chinese word for teacher in his tweets.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Leilani said. “What do you think, Sam? Sounds like your hometown hero is—woah. Sam? Are you okay?”

No. He was going to puke.

Leilani was the kind of friend who held your hair back in a bar toilet and she remained that kind of friend in that waffle house.

“Aw, man,” she said sympathetically. “Maybe they mixed up your order and put real milk in your tea, Sammy.”

Nothing had been mixed up.

But Sam was willing go with it.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” he slurred when he came up from the porcelain altar.

“We’ll take you,” Leilani said.

God, no. No, he needed to get in and throw himself into his room and delete his twitter and go find sensei and sob into his giant chest that he was right.

Social media had been a bad idea after all.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine,” Sam said.

Leilani looked at him terrifyingly like his mom and sister.

“I’m not throwing you on a bus to the Panhandle like this,” she said. “The old people will just have to deal with the awkwardness.”

Leilani refused to hang out with Sam at home because she couldn’t cope with seeing her employers roaming around in t-shirts and socks. It was too intimate for her, but apparently her mama-bear friend instincts overrode that feeling of uncomfortableness.

“Really, I’m fine. Didn’t drink that much,” he said.

“Wait, you live with the lawyers?” Achara asked. “Dude. That sucks.”

It didn’t.

It was infinitely more comfortable than sleeping on the streets or in hostels.

“Leilani,” he pleaded. “I’m okay. I’ll just—”

Leilani glared.

Sam texted Matt at the bus stop feeling a little like he was going to cry.

Matt texted back immediately and said not to worry. Everything was fine.

“He says we’ve got Peptobismol,” he told the gals miserably.

He didn’t feel any better, honestly, but if sensei thought that it was okay, it would probably be okay.

“Good,” Leilani said.

“Samuel,” Matt sighed at the front door.

Achara’s eyes went huge upon seeing him out of his suit and in his gym gear, looking for all intents and purposes like a professional boxer.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “Didn’t mean to cause any alarm.”

“S’alright,” Matt said. “In you go. Hazel, back. These are friends; you know them. Thank you, ladies, for bringing him home. We’ve got him.”

Matt said that it was okay after Sam explained what had happened.

“They don’t know it’s you, Sam,” he said soothingly. “They’re just talking. I know it can be awkward and a little nerve-wracking when that happens, but you’ll get used to it. And you’re fine, okay? Although, you know how I feel about Twitter.”

He did.

Matt wrapped an arm around his neck and hugged Sam close to his chest. Sam let himself hide in it.

More out of embarrassment now than anything else.

He’d freaked out over nothing. Nothing at all.

Ugh.

Matt laughed.

“Dramatic,” he observed.

UGH.

Sam called Hannah the next day and she laughed her ass off at him.

A horrible sister, truly.

“You ain’t got the stomach,” she told him. “Literally ain’t got the stomach. You’re so _soft_ , Sammy.”

Fucking rude.

Why had he done this to begin with? Sensei hadn’t let him go to work with him and Fogs, and Foggy wouldn’t stop treating him like a kid.

UGH.

“I’m getting known,” Sam told her. “People know me. Imagine you had someone stalkin’ you and talkin’ about your glorious ass right in front of you, but you can’t say anything or they’ll destroy your life forever, Hannah. Think about that.”

Hannah paused.

“You’re right,” she said after a moment. “That’s pretty shitty. Maybe you should hold off on Twitter, then.”

“Well, I can’t now,” Sam groaned. “My coworker will notice if I stop now. It’ll be super convenient, won’t it?” 

Hannah considered this.

“Damn,” she said after a while.

Sam groaned.

Leilani gave him a hug when he got back in the next day.

“I’m sorry for feeding you dairy tea,” she said. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam sighed.

“Mr. Murdock was worried about you,” she said, pulling away. “It was kind of cute. He kept forgetting you weren’t here and going to check on your desk.”

That was kind of endearing.

He went back to work and was swamped for a good five hours before Leilani came into the backroom and reminded him that he hadn’t taken any of his breaks.

He took them with her. Kirsten lived above the office and let people go up there and have tea and lunch on their breaks. Tuesday was up there that day, laying on the living room floor, looking sad for having been separated from Matt for the time being.

She lifted her head when Sam and Leilani came in.

Sam sat on the floor with her and gave her all the pets she deserved. Leilani heated up her lunch.

“You know, in your absence, I learned much about Achara,” she said.

Oh. Great.

“She’s a mega Daredevil fan, Sam, I thought I was, but I realize now that I am but a shallow bitch who’s a sucker for a scruffy jaw.”

Ain’t that the truth.

“Whatever,” Leilani scoffed, “Anyways, she was telling me that she and a couple of her friends go out and try to lure the devil out once a week or so. They said that they keep trying to find him but aren’t fast enough. I guess they’ve seen who they think is Blindspot a couple of times, but sometimes, he just vanishes mid-air. Pretty nuts, huh?”

Yeah.

Super nuts.

Where was the garbage bin? Sam was getting queasy again.

He realized Leilani had gone quiet and looked over his shoulder. She wasn’t facing him, she was patting her fork against her hand, watching the microwave.

“Hey, Sam?” she asked without turning around.

“Yeah?” he said.

“You’d tell me right?” she asked.

There it was.

Flooding through him, making his chest hot and his face flushed and his eyes suddenly bleary.

Matt said that it was the worst feeling in the world besides grief and man, did he know what he was talking about.

“Tell you what?” Sam asked.

The microwave beeped but Leilani didn’t open it to grab her lunch. She didn’t turn around either.

She sniffed.

Oh, god.

“Leilani,” he said, getting up. Tuesday got up with him, but she didn’t follow him over to Leilani’s side.

Sam put a careful hand on Leilani’s shoulder.

“Leilani,” he said again.

“You’re always hurt,” Leilani hiccupped. “You’re _always_ hurt, Sam. Every day, it’s something else.”

“No,” he said. “That’s just—I’m not—”

“And Mr. Murdock always makes an excuse for you. And Mr. Nelson always pretends like you’re okay. But you’re always hurt and I saw—I _saw_ , Sam. I saw you take them out once.”

Fuck. God. No.

He knew exactly what she was talking about and it truly had been once. Exactly once. The prosthetics scratched his eyes when they were in for too long. They hurt. They were drying. He’d been working all day, rubbing at his eyes. He’d taken them out for long enough to put a few drops in. He’d thought that everyone had left already.

“Leilani,” he said. “Let me explain.”

“You’re one of them,” Leilani said, pulling her shoulder out of his hand. “You’re from New York. Chinatown. You speak Mandarin. You moved here around the same time he disappeared. You’re on Twitter all the time and you’re always hurt, Sam. Really hurt. Not just ‘I tripped’ or ‘I bumped into something’ hurt. Like, bruised. Seriously bruised. And limping. Do you even know how much you limp? How long were you going to hide it? Does anyone else know? You’re _undocumented_ Sam. That’s fucking dangerous. That’s so fucking dangerous. You have to know that. If you got caught—if you got caught—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sam said, soaking in that horrible feeling. The worst feeling. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do.”

“How did you even get this job?” Leilani said, whirling around with bright red eyes. “Is this part of some plan? Some undercover, evil mastermind’s scheme? Are _you_ a spy, Sam? Are you here to use someone as a bargaining chip against, I dunno, fuckin’ _Stilt-man_ or something? Did Daredevil put you up to this?”

His throat hurt. Ached. Burned.

His eyes felt the same.

His heart felt like it had when Mom had died.

He’d never had anyone find out before. He’d always told them himself. This other way was worse. God, it was so much worse.

How had Foggy stayed with Matt after going through this? How did Spidey live with it?

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“I thought we were friends,” Leilani hiccupped.

“We are friends,” Sam said. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still me.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Leilani snapped.

Sam pulled back. Pulled his hand back. Tuesday came over and leaned against his side.

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He didn’t know what Leilani needed to hear. Sorry hadn’t worked.

The door opened.

Sam didn’t look up. He knew who it was.

“Oh, dear,” Matt’s voice said. “Getting a bit tense up here, isn’t it?”

Leilani shook herself and rubbed at her face.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “Sorry for being loud.”

They weren’t, though. Being loud, that is.

She would realize.

Sam needed to leave.

“I’m going home,” he told Matt shakily.

Leilani clenched her jaw at him. Angry still.

She would realize.

“No, you’re not,” Matt said gently.

The tears threatened to fall, even though Sam knew the whole time that that was what he was going to say.

“Leilani,” Matt said. “Why are you upset?”

She recoiled.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “Really. Just a…misunderstanding. I just assumed something and was wrong. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

Sam didn’t have many friends. He’d kill for Leilani. Give his life for her. Even now. Even if she didn’t want to be friends anymore. He didn’t want to put her in danger. And it had been so nice to have friends for even such a short period of time.

“Samuel,” Matt said. “Calm down, son. There’s no need for that.”

He was referring to the pounding of Sam’s heart and his struggle to swallow. Leilani couldn’t know that. She was confused.

“Leilani, have a seat,” Matt said. “I think we owe you an explanation.”

Leilani’s eyes went wide and she took a step back.

“Wh-what?” she said. “We?”

“Have a seat,” Matt said.

“You’re—you’re—you’re—”

Matt had done this time and time again. With each of his partners. With so many of his friends.

He was a pro. He was always a pro.

“I bet it’s pretty shocking,” he said patiently.

“But—but you’re—but, Mr. Murdock, I’m sorry, but you’re—” Leilani stumbled.

“Blind?” Matt asked with a smile.

Leilani fell quiet.

“Ever wondered how it happened?” Matt pressed. “You’ve never asked. That’s very polite of you.”

Leilani stared and him and then looked at Sam. He didn’t try to meet her eye. He felt like he’d lost the right somehow.

“Sam’s got low-vision,” she said quietly.

“The blind leading the blind, eh?” Matt joked.

Leilani’s chest rose and fell with each of her breaths.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Your jaw.”

“They called me the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt said, carefully removing his glasses and setting them on the table. His milky blue eyes didn’t focus. The delicate scars around them were barely there in Kirsten’s kitchen’s light.

“They say the devil can track anyone, anywhere and he’ll come find you. All you have to do is scream,” Matt said, knitting his fingers together under his chin and smiling at Leilani.

She pressed herself back into her chair.

“I hear them all,” Matt said evenly with his eyes crinkling into crow’s feet around their scared edges. “Can hear for _miles_. Can feel the tiniest shift in heat. In pressure. Can smell every herb that went into your perfume. Your shampoo. What you ate this morning. You were in a hurry, weren’t you? Aloe vera shampoo and toast with jam for breakfast.”

Leilani’s fingertips seemed much paler than before where they shook in front of her chest.

“When I was very small,” Matt continued, somehow violent, somehow ruthless in his patience and calmness, “I ran into the road one day to push an old man out of the way of an oncoming truck. The old man lived and so did I, but the truck that nearly took my life was loaded with barrels of acid. It took my sight and gave me something more. Now, I don’t know what you’ve heard about superheroes, Leilani, but nowadays, they say that with great power comes great responsibility.”

Leilani put a hand over her mouth.

“You’re really him,” she whispered.

Matt said nothing for a long time. He stayed dead even while picking up his glasses and slipping them back over those empty blue eyes.

“I got sick, Leilani,” he said. “A few years back. Foggy got sick, too. Really sick. Cancer. I started spiraling. Started losing myself over the thought of losing him. Started fightin’ harder; gettin’ mean. Tryin’ to get even with certain people—certain Kingpins—thinkin’ that winnin’ those battles would keep Foggy alive. Kirsten did her best, but she couldn’t fight all our battles for us. So I made a choice. Decided to cut my losses. Decided that some things are more important than winning. So we moved out here and started over, doing what we do best. And I think we’ve done a pretty good job so far, how about you?”

Leilani didn’t have an answer for that. She pressed her hand into her heart.

“You’re really Daredevil,” she breathed. “But—if you’re Daredevil, then—then Sam’s—he works for you. You put him here? Did you force him here?”

“No,” Sam said before he could stop himself.

“No,” Matt confirmed. “Sam found me. Brave little shit, threw everything away in New York to come learn how to protect his community. A real blast from the past if you know what I mean?” He grinned for a moment, then dropped it. “I brought him here to protect him, Leilani. He follows my lead. I’m getting old. I’m not meant to last after all that I’ve done. Sam is my legacy. He won’t be Daredevil, but Blindspot will live on to carry on the mission and the work when I’m gone. Until then, he has much to learn and I need him close so that what has happened to so many of my other friends does not happen to him. Do you understand?

Leilani pursed her lips and brought her jaw in towards her shoulder.

“This is not about pity,” Matt said, as though reading her mind, “This is about a relationship. An exchange. Samuel works for me because it ensures that he is stable and healthy enough to keep working with me. As Daredevil. He is my student. I am his teacher. We have responsibilities to each other. He is not coerced. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Leilani finally said quietly. “I think I understand. But—”

Matt hummed and stood up.

“Sam will answer the rest of your questions,” he said. “If you are uncomfortable with this information, you are welcome to leave these offices. You’re an excellent employee; we will help you find another job that suits your skills and will provide you with a glowing reference should you ever need it. Sam. Take over, my two o’ clock is here.”

“Yes, sensei,” Sam mumbled automatically.

Matt accepted the respect and told Tuesday to stay upstairs before leaving and closing the door behind him.

The room went quiet and tense again in his absence.

“You’re Blindspot,” Leilani whispered. “You’re Blindspot. And I work for Daredevil. I schedule Daredevil’s meetings. I go out for drinks with a superhero.”

Sam swallowed.

“I’m not a superhero,” he said. “I’m just an idiot with nothing left to lose.”

Leilani snapped out of her daze and jerked her face towards him.

“Let me see them,” she said.

Sam closed his eyes.

“Let me get their case,” he said.

He’d never shown his eyes to anyone outside of the house on purpose. Ever. It had been by accident that Spidey and the others had found out back in New York.

His hands shook as he took out the prosthetic sclera lenses.

Leilani gasped.

“What—what happened to you?” she asked.

“It’s a long story,” Sam told her. “And I don’t know how much of it sensei’ll let me tell you.”

“You call him ‘sensei?’” She asked.

Sam lifted a shoulder.

“Or _lǎoshī_ ,” he said. “But sensei’s teacher was more influenced by Japanese styles, so he’s used those titles since he was young.”

“Right,” Leilani said quietly. “That’s, uh? Cool. Is that cool?”

“Not really,” Sam said. “He says I can call him ‘Matt’ but it doesn’t feel right after all he’s done for me.”

A quiet settled between them again.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your eyes.”

“I lost them to a man called Muse. He stabbed them out.”

“Oh my god.”

“My mother gave her soul for me to have these ones. She was killed and eaten not long after.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Sam.”

There were no lenses to help sop up the tears this time.

“Sam. No, Sam. I’m so sorry. Don’t cry.”

“It’s okay,” he gritted out.

“It’s not,” Leilani said.

It wasn’t.

“I need to learn how to fight without being able to see well,” Sam said. “The only person who can teach me is sensei.”

“He’s really blind,” Leilani whispered.

“He is,” Sam said. “His teacher, too. He’s helping me learn. Leilani, listen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I can’t tell anyone. Anything. I’m not—just existing in this country is already hard for me. It’s like I’m invisible. I’ve always been invisible. I have to stay invisible. So I made a suit. I was going to try to patent it, to make myself visible in other ways, but—I can’t. It’s too much of a risk. It won’t work. I’ll just get deported and my sister needs me here. Our mom is dead. I pay rent here and I help her pay rent back home, I told you this—but I can’t spend my life like this. Just rotting away, invisible. Doing the same menial labor over and over and over and _over_ for years until I die.”

His breath seemed to be coming quicker.

“If I’m already invisible,” he said, “I thought that I’d put it to good use. The world on this side of the country sucks, don’t get me wrong. Y’all have problems. But New York—Chinatown—we’re like Hell’s Kitchen used to be before sensei stepped up. We need someone to step up. No one cares about us poor immigrants. Someone needed to step up. So I did. And I will. And I will make that place safer and kinder to those of us living there. I’ll do that if it kills me. Until it kills me. Because that is my home. And this is my country. And those are my people. And we deserve better.”

Getting it out made his chin raise without him telling it to.

It made his chest expand and his spine straighten.

‘Conviction,’ Matt told him, time and time again, tucking fingers under Sam’s chin and lifting it higher.

“We always get up,” Matt told him.

Leilani stood up.

She hugged him. So tight, so close. He could barely breathe.

“Sammy, you’re so fucking stupid,” she gasped. “You’re so fucking brave and so fucking stupid.”

His arms wrapped around her waist. He let his head lean against her chest.

He let the hug happen.

It had been so long since he’d hugged anyone outside his immediate circle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said again. “I’ve only ever told my sister. Everyone else finds out first.”

“You’re stupid,” Leilani said, pulling back, giggling suddenly, just on this side of hysterical. “And Achara’s in love with you.”

She wiped at her eyes and Sam subconsciously wiped at his own.

“God, I know,” he said. “It’s _awful_.”

Leilani’s giggling got high-pitched and shaky. She caught herself and reeled it back in.

“I’m working for Daredevil,” she whispered. “What happens if someone finds out?”

“No one ever believes that,” Sam told her. “Sensei’s super good at playing defenseless, bewildered blind man.”

“Oh my god. He’s not, though. He misses the last step every time.”

“Hey, I said he’s good at playing. When he does that, he’s not playing. He’s just dumb and careless.”

There was a rap at the door.

It opened slowly to reveal Foggy looking wary.

“Children,” he greeted.

Sam got up and grabbed his contact case. Foggy lifted an eyebrow at him.

“We have jobs to do, no?” he said.

They both looked down at the floor.

“Go clean up,” Foggy said in Sam’s direction. “The both of you. We have clients in.”

Leilani knowing made Sam’s chest feel like a bubble, expanding to bursting. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to sob. It felt so good and so scary all that the same time.

He thought she felt the same way.

After Achara left the office after closing, Matt told Sam to come back home before nine. They had work to do.

He let Leilani hear him say it. Then he whistled for the dogs and with them came Foggy, shouting up to Kirsten that no, he wasn’t hearing any more of it. They weren’t talking about the Briar’s case for another 12 hours at least.

He came down and offered his elbow to Matt at the door. He looked over his shoulder at Leilani with her hands cupped over her face.

“You get used to it,” he said simply.

“Take me to New York with you,” Leilani sang when they went out on an adventure that Sam wouldn’t have otherwise taken her.

She was delighted by the parkour. She clapped at the acrobatics. She screamed a little when he took her hand and took her running, sprinting, jumping up to places as high as he could find out on this side of the city.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” Leilani huffed following him over to the side of the building to face the sinking sun and its pink skies.

“It’s not safe yet,” He said. “Sensei says I can’t go back until I’m more trained. People are starting to know I’m his apprentice now. They’ll target me. I have to be better before I go back again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, I went with him and the others for their wedding.”

“Nice. Was it fun?”

Sam laughed.

“I got shot,” he said. “Like, within an hour of meeting Spiderman. Got shot right in front of him, girl. Screamed and cried and everything—completely _destroyed_ that first impression.”

She laughed so hard she had to bend in half.

“That’s not funny,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Except it kind of is. Is he nice?”

“Who, Spidey? Yeah, he’s great,” Sam said. “He and Matt are really close.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“So you saw him with no mask?” Leilani asked. “Is he cute?”

Sam beamed at her.

“You saw him with no mask, too,” he said.

She froze.

“SAMMY.”

He laughed.

“LET ME SEE AGAIN.”

“Nope. You had your chance.”

“Is he the scruffy white boy? SAMUEL. This is my dream. You’re ruining my _dream_.”

“He thinks you’re cute too,” Sam said, beaming. “But he’s already dated like half of New York, so you’re kind of SOL.”

“I hate you,” Leilani snapped.

“You love me,” Sam teased.

“I fucking hate you. Take me to New York. I’m gonna date all your enemies.”

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Was this what it felt like for the others when their friends had breathed in and then out and then said ‘okay. So this is you?’

If so, it was _everything_. It was the rush. The fall.

Everything.

“You’re the best, Leilani,” he said.

She huffed.

“You’re damn right I am,” she said.

She had no idea.

The fall had been so worth it after all this time.

**Author's Note:**

> all of matt's secretaries end up knowing he's daredevil pretty much.


End file.
